Sweet Sixteen
by strawberrieswillruletheworld
Summary: Harry goes off to the elven realm while the Order deals with stuff back on Earth. A lot of OC's including Sirius' fiancee. This story is meant to include Harry's 6th and 7th year. Now there's something to think about!
1. Default Chapter

Hey, everyone. This story is just to kill off this horrible plot bunny that's been hanging onto my leg for about nine months- Argh! I don't mind if I don't manage to get all that many reviews, though a few would be nice =) I'm just enjoying writing this story, however corny that may sound. I know some references in this story may sound similar to some stuff in Lord Of The Rings, but I just get inspiration from there. And I got all the Wicca stuff from the Wicca series by Cate Tiernan. I am NOT making any adverts; I'm just making some stuff clear.

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Disclaimers: All Harry Potter characters belong to JK Rowling, no matter how many letters I've written to her. I don't make no money outta this here story, but you can send me a pay check if ya want, I ain't stopping y'all :P And any OC's I've created, weeeelll, they b'long to me, so youse gotta have mah permission to use'em. Sorry!

Begin with the story! Hope y'all enjoy it! P.S. First fic, so y'all be gentle, 'kay?

Sweet Sixteen

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Chapter 1

It was cold; a bitter cold night in Surrey, and everyone was feeling it, including a certain 15- year old wizard in No. 4, Privet Drive. Although it was summer the weather had been very strange those past few weeks and there had been quite a few thunderstorms. The average temperature had been ranging from about twenty degrees down to about as low as nine. Everyone had shoved their bathing suits and picnic baskets back into their wardrobes and cupboards in gloomy resignation as they realised they were in for quite depressing holidays. Dudley had been in an especially bad mood, as now Mrs. Dursley had forbidden him to go out with his friends because of such bad weather- "Ickle Popkins will catch _such_ a dreadful cold, won't he now?"- but this was very bad news for Harry Potter, Dudley's cousin, who also happened to be a boy wizard. Dudley, instead of going _to_ his friends, was bringing his friends to his own home. Here, unfortunately, Dudley & Co. had full reign of the house and had sworn to make Harry's life a living hell.

Well… a few of them, anyway. For Dudley had not yet recovered from last year's Dementor attack. He still steadfastly believed that it had all been Harry's fault. So every time his gang got a bit hyper he'd try and calm them down or distract them with something else- he was now absolutely terrified. He normally succeeded, as his gang didn't really mind not beating up Harry- as long as they had something else to smash- e.g. Uncle Vernon's best suit or the dining room's coffee table- they were quite satisfied.

As for Harry, though, he couldn't have cared less. He had his own problems to deal with. All through the day, and all through night, his thoughts were focused on one thing- the death of Sirius Black.

Harry could not stop thinking about his former godfather. It didn't seem real that Sirius had only been killed just a month ago. He was still waking up every morning expecting Hedwig carrying a letter from him, when the reality would sink in and his shoulders would sag helplessly. Dead, dead, dead, Sirius is dead, he'd tell himself… but he still wouldn't accept it and a horrible depression slowly became part of his attitude. As in the case of all depressives, he had a nagging feeling that Sirius' death was all his fault. He thought that if only he hadn't been so hasty to get to the Department of Mysteries Sirius wouldn't have had to leave the safety of his hiding place to save his, Harry's, life.

Actually, a brief skirmish from Dudley's side would have broken Harry's monotony nicely, would have distracted him from his current misery. What Dumbledore had told him at the end of the year really hadn't cheered him up one bit. The knowledge that either him or Voldemort would be dead in the near future wasn't exactly what you'd call uplifting. Harry couldn't get the Prophecy out of his head, no matter how hard he tried. Especially the events that had preceded its discovery… Neville's broken nose, Ron's temporary madness, Hermione's bitter struggles before falling into unconsciousness, Lupin, trying to comfort Harry, and Bellatrix Lestrange, and her horrible, mocking voice as she taunted him… the thought of Sirius' murderess made Harry's fists clench and his insides churn as if on fire with hot, nauseating liquid. It wasn't the first time that, during thoughts like these, Harry had to leave from whatever he was doing to go the lavatory to feel sick. They were truly horrible, those moments, when he'd lean his head back from the lavatory pan weakly and wipe vomit off his lips, his head pounding, then to look in the mirror, and his whole self would fill with self-loathing…

It wasn't as if he was surrounded with empathy, either. The Dursleys were obviously far from capable of understanding what he was going through. At least this time they were too scared to lock him into a cupboard or a room, or to mistreat him too badly- the image of Moody evidently hadn't yet disappeared from Uncle Vernon's head. Only this kept getting Harry three meals a day (when he felt like eating them, that is) or a place to sleep at night.

At times, Harry thought he'd catch Aunt Petunia looking at him in a strange way. She'd look away quickly then, snapping at him to quit staring at her, but he thought he knew the reason for her behaviour. Ever since last year's Howler he'd felt the slightest, smallest connection to his mother's sister. Not a deep connection, certainly, but still… Harry guessed that out of all the people in that house Mrs. Dursley was probably the only one who could imagine what was going on in the wizarding world at that moment.

He'd spoken to her once, during those three weeks he'd been there so far. He'd asked about the Howler of last year, when he'd been ordered to help clean the dishes with her. Standing at the sink one day, he'd popped the question.

"It was never really a secret, what went on in that crackpot world of hers went on in our household most of the time," she had replied curtly. The wet dish she was holding in hands almost slipped out of her hands. She caught it clumsily, muttering furiously under her breath. Harry suspected she'd in a way been expecting this, and was now trying to avoid it. Ignoring the slight about the "crackpot" world, he asked,

"But- didn't you have _any_ idea of what had been going on? You must have, I mean, even when she was living with my father, there was such a huge war going on. Even Muggles were-"

This time Aunt Petunia _did _drop a plate- it cracked into little pieces as soon as it hit the bottom of the sink.

"_Don't- say- that- WORD!"_ she hissed at him, eyes madly peering out of the windows, in all directions. As if she was expecting a million neighbours to fall down, clutching their hearts and gasping in horror at the sound of the word "Muggle".

She turned on him, furiously. "Whatever your mother was going through when you were born- when she married that James- had absolutely _nothing_ to do with me. Oh, we heard stories- on the news- and sometimes from letters and- _owls_- from Lily- about people dying, people fighting here, and there, about this – this-" Her voice lowered to barely a whisper-"_Dark Lord,_ who went around, killing- _do you think we wanted to be a part of that? _No, we didn't! But one fine day, _you_ showed up on our doorstep, clutching that letter in your hand. Saying that _we_ out of all people were the only ones who'd be able to protect you, after your foolhardy parents had gone and got themselves killed! You don't know how lucky you are- I could have easily let Vernon send you off to an orphanage! But I couldn't because I didn't want anything to happen to _my_ family, to _my_ son- I was terrified of what those- those people would do if I dared do otherwise…"

She paused, breathing heavily, staring at Harry, whose heart was hammering wildly against his chest. He'd never heard such an impassioned speech from his aunt before- not since that long- ago night in that hut when Hagrid had first visited him.

Suddenly she straightened up. The flush in her face that had appeared in her face whilst she was talking began to fade. "I'd like you to leave now, please," she intoned.

Her face was expressionless.

"But-"

"Out! Now!" There was even a touch of pleading in her voice.

Harry turned swiftly on his heels and left the kitchen. As he made his way upstairs to his room his ears were pounding with anger at the injustice of it all. He, Harry, was only alive because a bunch of idiots were terrified of what other people would do to them. He truly felt worthless.

He flopped, sitting down on his bed, and gazed miserably around his room. He hadn't even bothered to unpack once he'd arrived. His room was as bare as he's left it the previous summer. His Firebolt, which used to be his most precious possession, had been shoved as far as possible underneath his bed. It was too, too painful looking at it. He'd have thrown it out of the window had it not been for the fear of it being discovered by Muggles.

He didn't really care about Quidditch any more.

He lay back on his bed, screwing up his eyes painfully as he struggled against the overpowering emotions waging battle inside him. He lost the battle, and turned over on his duvet as he succumbed to the tears rolling down his face…

Nighttime. Harry blearily opened his eyes and saw a shaft of moonlight cutting in through his open window, which had wind blowing through it. Realising he'd fallen asleep with his glasses on, he shivered and got up to close it. It was cold.

However, before he could shut the windowpane, something soft whooshed past his face and perched on his bedpost. Hedwig. With a letter.

He pulled down the blinds. "Hey," he said, and moved over to get the letter- no, letters, he noticed, as he untied them from her leg.

His owl hooted softly, as well as an owl with a dead rat in her beak could, and settled down into her cage to eat her dinner.

The first letter was from Ron; in reply to a letter Harry had sent out of obedience to the promised correspondence.

_Hey Harry, how're you holding up, mate? I know you're feeling lousy at the moment, and I got to admit I don't know what to say to help that- I feel lousy too. We're trying our best to have you over, as soon as we can, Mum's desperate… nothing much is going on here, we'll keep you posted this time though, don't worry…_

On and on it went… Harry quietly let the piece of parchment drop from his fingers to the floor, without finishing it. He was stuck in that same feeling he had when leaving Hogwarts a few weeks earlier… when with Ron or Hermione, he felt as if he'd rather be alone, and when alone, he'd be desperate for company.

He read the first few lines of Hermione's letter- _I know you must be feeling absolutely terrible, and I know you probably don't want to hear tomorrow's another day… I'll see you these holidays hopefully, and I'll let you know what's happening… have you spoken to Ron lately?… Happy Birthday by the way, it's next week isn't it…Sweet Sixteen…_

Huh… Sweet Sixteen? Harry had forgotten completely about his birthday. He stopped reading and, yawning, reached for the third letter. As he unrolled it he started, recognising Dumbledore's firm, flowing script.

A letter from Dumbledore! Finally! Maybe he'd learn something useful for a change… Without further ado Harry settled into a more comfortable position and began to read.

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My dear Harry,

I hope this finds you in good health, as am I. Of course, I do not expect that you are feeling on top of the world at the moment, but that is understandable, given the events of the past few weeks.

Harry, for some time now, or rather, all_ the time, I have become increasingly worried about you. This might sound strange given that you are safe under the Dursleys' wings, but for once, it is not about Voldemort's effect on you that I am concerned about. No Harry, it is about _you,_ what you have been feeling, the turmoil that must be going on inside you. I am worried about the state of your emotional health._

I have come to realise that you cannot stay at the Dursleys' this summer.

Harry's heart gave a gigantic leap. This was the first time that Dumbledore had actually said that. Feeling a hundred times' lighter, he continued reading.

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I am not however, going to send you to the Grimmauld Place, The Headquarters Of The Order Of The Phoenix. I can imagine that that would be far from ideal. Nor am I going to send you to The Burrow. No, Harry, I am going to send you to De-allón.

What is De-allón, you might ask? Well, De-allón is another magical world, but it lies parallel to our own. It can only be reached using special Portkeys obtained from the Ministry- these Portkeys are often very expensive and their use must be supervised under special Ministry circumstances. However, thanks to Mundungus Fletcher, obtaining this Portkey has not been a problem.

Anyway, back to De-allón. De-allón, Harry, is a special healing place where wizards are sent when they have been through a particularly horrible trauma, such as you. It's a place where time is timeless, where age is ageless, and where peace is almost everlasting. It did not used to be like that, though, in the past- far from it. Wars were fought and people torn apart, Dark Lords and Enemies came and went- a bit like our own world, in fact. Now it is dominated mostly by Men, although there are still colonies of Elves and Dwarves.

I am going to send you to stay with the Elves, Harry. They are truly delightful people. The place where you will be staying is a Tree- City, called Alerien. It is the most beautiful place in De-allón. The Lord and Lady of De-allón have long since passed away, but now it is inhabited by a few lingering elves, who have built small villages there, for our purposes. The Leader of these villages is Naisiltirtha. You will be staying with her.

Moody and Lupin will be calling tomorrow to pick you up to escort you to the Portkey Point. Be ready at 11.00am. They will answer any questions you may have.

You will be staying there for the rest of the summer, until you begin your scholastic year at Hogwarts. You will be staying at the Weasleys' for a week until the beginning of school. I have just sent an owl to Molly Weasley informing her on what is happening.

Harry, I hope that this will work out for your sake. I hope that when you arrive at Hogwarts this September there will be a noticeable change in you.

Best wishes,

Albus Dumbledore

Harry stared at the letter in disbelief. Last year, he had been treated like a little, naïve boy and was never told anything he should have known. Now this year everyone was handling him as though he was an invalid… sending him over to be "healed" by a bunch of… what were they called?… Elves. Harry started to feel extremely frustrated. He was simply a puppet, no less. Everyone did what he or she wanted with him.

On the other hand…

Being away from the Dursleys was always definitely a plus point. The further away the better. On another world… well, postage bills would definitely be a bit over the top.

He'd also be away from all his friends…

Come to think of it, Harry wasn't sure he'd miss his friends that much if he went. He still cared about them but he wasn't sure whether they'd be able to empathise with him.

What the hell, he suddenly decided on impulse. He'd go. What difference could it make anyway?

He checked his watch to find out it was 23.11pm. He had 11 hours and 49 minutes before leaving for this De-allón thing. His stuff was already packed. So he made the most of his remaining time on Earth by wrapping the duvet around him to drown out Dudley's snores, and sleeping.


	2. Chapter 2

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CHAPTER 2

Narië, rè 15, Enquier 2, Yèn 4023

Lairë

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There was a circle last night, upon the west cliffs overlooking the Great River. There were twelve of us in all: Mother, Síle, a few other Elves from the Mallorn Village, Lóni and I. It was a fine night, with a clear half-moon and not a cloud in sight. The air was fresh and I felt so alive. We stood around the heap of blessed flowers that we would offer to the Goddess and did some healing for the Earthmen who are leaving tonight. They are much better looking now than when they first came here, although you would not think it by the looks upon their faces. Every time we perform a healing rite or call upon the Goddess a look of terror appears on their faces. They think it is dark magick, performing Wicca. By the way, they call it "magic" and not "magick" as is its proper name.

I asked Mother about this as we headed our way home. "Why is it that our magick instils so much fear into the hearts of Earthmen?" I said as we travelled, unshod, across the fresh green grass. "It heals them and does them no harm. Isn't that how it all started? Without wands?"

"Yes," Mother replied, "it is, but they have very different ideas of how magic should be from where they come. They do not praise the God or Goddess in their world, which is why they need to harness the power of magick through wands and incantations. The last wizard to practise Wicca in their world was a very long time ago, and he was sentenced and hanged straight away. He was accused of black magick."

I was aghast. I could not imagine performing magick without first calling upon the God or Goddess. It seemed so soulless, and empty. That night, whilst performing the healing, I had felt the cu_mhachd, the power, in my fingers, in my arms, and I was happy and danced with Lóni for hours. I was sure I would never be able to experience that through use of a wand._

"Then why do they keep sending their people here?" I asked petulantly. "It is not fair, that we keep wasting our time on them, when they have such a low opinion of our magick."

"They do it because as long as they are not the ones performing any rites, they would not be doing anything wrong in the eyes of their world. And it is also a way of showing that there is harmony between both worlds. And it is not a waste of time, Lena. You must remember the threefold law- whatever magick you do, it will return unto you threefold. Which reminds me; tomorrow I want you up early- we have a new visitor and we've run out of herbs. I need you to gather."

I grumbled a bit. "Another one?"

"Yes, but this case is slightly different. It is a young boy, about your age. We have never had someone so young before. Perhaps he will become a playmate for you, Lena."

I snorted. As if I would ever associate with any of the Earthmen! And anyway, maidens of my age did not have "playmates" we had "suitors" now. I told Mother this and she laughed. I was sore for a bit until another thought occurred.

"This boy- for one so young- he has suffered much then, to need our treatment?"

"He has," Mother replied, sobering up, "but he will tell you his story himself, if he wants to and if you want to know so badly. Do not pester him, Lena. Now, look, we are home." And indeed we had arrived at our flet. "Now get some rest straight away, it has been a long night. Perform your last circle, say your prayers, and do not forget to write your Book of Shadows before you go to bed."

Which is what I am writing right now. What a long entry it's been! But a lot has happened today. And I can still feel tonight's energy of the Goddess flowing through my veins. But that is all for now. I must be up early to gather the herbs and get ready for the boy's arrival. Who knows, he might be of some company. I need some company, that's for sure- except for Lóni and her brothers I am surrounded by elders.

Lena 


	3. Chapter Three

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CHAPTER THREE

It was 10.30 and Harry was already waiting near the door, his suitcases all ready packed and his Firebolt carefully wrapped up in a long thin plastic bag. He had half played with the idea of leaving it behind but he shuddered at the thought of what would happen if it had to fall into Dudley hands.

In the background he could hear the rattling and splashing of Aunt Petunia in the kitchen as she cleaned up after Dudley's second breakfast. He yawned- he was still tired from last night's bad dreams- and slouched down on a ratty old suitcase of his. He leaned back and thought drearily about De-allón. Suddenly he fully realised what he was about to embark on- he was going to be away from all that he knew best for three whole days. From the wizarding world, from his "family"- no loss there- from his friends…

His friends. All of a sudden the thought of Hermione and Ron struck a lonely chord inside him- he did miss them very much after all, and would even more now- he was going to be on a whole different world, for heaven's sake…

The shrill sound of the Dursleys' doorbell suddenly interrupted his thoughts. He checked his watch- it was now 10.45- they were early. Very odd for wizards.

He stood up to open the door but his hand froze close to the handle as frenzied barks and yaps suddenly cut through the silence. Then Lupin's voice rang anxiously out-

"Harry, don't open the door! For goodness' sake, whatever you do, _don't open the door!_"

Harry stepped backwards in alarm. Through the Fibreglass of the door he could see the silhouettes of both Moody and Lupin. They appeared to be both crouching over something on the ground- Harry couldn't see what. Then he heard shouts.

"Alastor, _no!_ I forbid you to do that, it's cruelty to- _ouch!_ Gyp, stop, stop, _stop!_ Alastor, put that thing away; here, give him a biscuit, you know he likes frog flavour best- _Argh!_ Alastor- ahh…"

Very much taken aback, Harry hovered about the door anxiously, wondering whether he should open the door or not. Eventually the barking and shouting became so loud that Aunt Petunia came bustling out of the kitchen, her face red as a ripe tomato- with fury, of course.

"_What_ is going on out there?" she demanded of Harry, who started to panic. "Is it that batty old woman from next door? Has she hired pit bulls to kill off those awful old cats of hers-"

She broke off and her face turned white as she caught sight of the shadows behind the door.

"For goodness' sake, if it's your friends, don't leave them on the doorstep! God knows what the neighbours must be seeing!" she hissed, and before Harry could stop her she grabbed hold of the handle and pulled the door open.

There was an anguished cry of "I _told_ him not to open the door!" and a small furry explosion leapt into the house- and onto Aunt Petunia. She shrieked and fell backwards on the floor, while the small excited- thing- tried vainly to bite her upturned face.

Lupin burst in, closely followed by Moody, and took in the scene with one, antagonized glance. "Oh, _Gyp!_ _How_ many times?" he cried. "Don't worry ma'am, we'll have him off you in no time at all," and with that he leapt onto Mrs. Dursley, who had by now fainted dead away, and grabbed hold of the creature. "Quick Moody," he yelled over screeching yelps, "I'm going to go outside with Gyp; as soon as I've done that, revive Mrs Dursley, and Harry, grab your things and come outside now!"

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"What's going on here?"

Dudley had just appeared, his face purple- just like his father's. Harry gave an inward groan but willingly did as he was told, grabbing his luggage and shoving it together with himself out of the door, leaving Moody to cope with the mess indoors.

Outside it was still chilly- the summer hadn't got any better. Yet the sky seemed to have an almost peaceful aura about it- strangely there was not a cloud in sight, although it was freezingly grey and the sun was nowhere to be seen. It was the strangest weather Harry had ever experienced.

"Strange weather, isn't it?" said Lupin, frowning. He had managed to overcome the small creature, which was now sitting despondently on the ground. Harry looked at it curiously. "What _is_ that thing?" he asked. It looked like a small Jack Russell terrier.

"That's a Crup," explained Lupin. (A/N: Those of you who have it, look up "Crup" in _Fantastic Beasts & Where To Find Them_). "They're very loyal to wizards, but not very fond of Muggles- which is why he attacked your aunt so ferociously."

"So why did you bring him along then?"

"I wouldn't have brought him along for all the tea in China- if it wasn't for Tonks, that is," said Lupin. "You see, she found him abandoned at The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. And, being the soft- hearted woman she is, she took it into her head to bring him home to Grimmauld Place. You see, it can get very dull over there, as- as I'm sure you've found out," he said awkwardly, "and, well, to cut a long story short, there was nobody at Grimmauld Place today as Tonks had to go off early to work, so we ended up babysitting him."

Harry looked down at the animal again, which gave a small yap and tried to walk on his hind legs, falling backwards after a few seconds.

"He's just showing off," said Lupin, a tad fondly. "Ah, here comes Alastor."

Harry looked round and saw Moody carefully shutting the front door. He limped over to where they were standing with Gyp. "Thanks for leaving me to deal with all that mess, both of you," he growled.

"Alastor, you know Gyp can't possibly be left alone, especially not in this neighbourhood," scolded Lupin. "Did you manage-"

"Yeah, I did, and it was no easy task," grumbled Moody, "I had half a mind to stun that cousin of yours, Harry, he was squealing so much. But, but," he said hastily, seeing the alarmed look on Lupin's face, "they're both fine now, memory wiped and all that. I left them a note saying Harry's gone." He sighed and stretched his arms. "I just wish Tonks wasn't so impulsive all the time. God knows what she's unleashed on the unsuspecting south."

"Well," said Lupin, picking up one of Harry's suitcases, "shall we get a move on, then?"

"You two walk in front- I'll tail you. You never know when we might be ambushed," growled Moody.

Lupin rolled his eyes but both Harry and him knew better than to argue with Moody.

"So, Harry," said Lupin quietly, when they were well out of the way of the Dursleys' neighbourhood, "how have you been holding up these past few weeks?"

"Not too bad," mumbled Harry. Lupin raised his eyebrows. Harry looked him in the eyes and noticed that there were a good deal of lines on the older man's face that had not been there before this summer. "Actually, not too good, either," he admitted. "It's hard, you know…?"

Lupin nodded and said, "I won't lie to you, Harry- this summer's been the worst I've ever had as well. It's not only the loss- it's the huge sweep of panic speeding through the wizarding world."

"Oh, so they've finally woken up, then?" said Harry, suddenly bitter. The press had been less than kind to him during his fifth year at Hogwarts.

"Oh yes, the Daily Prophet is full with things about the accused Death Eaters, about how to brush up on Stunning and Disarming Spells, and how to recognise an Unforgivable Curse… things like that," said Lupin matter-of-factly. "And of course, many young witches and wizards have steered their career paths to becoming Aurors. Some have even dropped out of their schools to begin studying Defence against the Dark Arts."

"But only after the Daily Prophet had spoken," said Harry resentfully.

"Only after _you_ confronted Voldemort in the Department of Mysteries," said Lupin encouragingly. "Were it not for that, I doubt the Minster would have come rushing to the Ministry in the middle of the night. Don't be too hard on yourself, Harry. Ah… here we are."

They had come to a dingy side street that was full of old, abandoned buildings. It was very quiet and not a soul was to be seen. Opposite to where they stood was a small, broken-down chapel; next to it there was a huge junk pile, full of old thrown away Muggle rubbish. Lupin and Moody immediately crossed over to it and began searching it quickly. Moody motioned Harry over to do the same.

"Er, Professor… what are we supposed to be doing?" asked Harry nervously.

"Looking for the Portkey," replied Moody, examining a rusty old can-opener. "Mundungus forgot to tell us what it looked like- twit- so he dropped it off here 5 minutes ago. He said it was some kind of household item. To check for it, just tap your wand against an object for 3 times and say: _Quinmagini._ If it glows a golden colour then that's our lucky charm." He sighed and threw the can-opener over his shoulder. "We're going to be here forever, Remus. Are you sure he didn't give us a single clue on what it looks like?"

"Only that it was used solely by Muggles."

"That should be so helpful to _us,_" said Moody sarcastically.

"No, but it's very useful to Harry. He grew up with Muggles, remember," said Lupin. He held up a used condom. "What do you think, Harry? Household item?"

Harry looked up from the broken chess piece he was holding, and then looked down quickly again, trying not to grin. "Er, I wouldn't even bother testing that, Professor. Er, I really wouldn't," he added.

"What _is_ it, Harry?" questioned Moody, scratching his head, very much bewildered.

Harry did not even want to imagine the reactions he'd be met with if he had to tell the two wizards the truth. So he decided to invent.

"Muggles use them to- keep their- their cigars fresh," he said brightly, and bent down to shove an old TV set out of the way.

"Hmm… I'll keep this for Arthur, then," said Lupin thoughtfully, and pocketed it. "Should come in useful."

"Nasty cough you've got there, Potter," said Moody.

After 15 more minutes, which seemed more like 2 hours, Harry managed to find the blessed Portkey. It was an old, (full) crumpled Tampax box. _Now how am I going to explain this one?_ He thought miserably as he watched the glowing tampons.

"Oh, Harry, you've found it!" exclaimed Lupin, hurrying over together with Moody to where Harry stood. "Merlin's beard- what are _those?_"

Harry looked hopefully at Moody, searching for any signs of enlightenment. It was no use. Moody was just as puzzled as Lupin was.

"Er- Muggles stuff them up their- up their noses when they've got a very bad cold," he invented desperately. _Hah, household object. I bet Mundungus did this on purpose._

"My word," said Lupin.

"Never heard that one before, certainly," said Moody. "Anyway, Remus, seeing as we've found the damn thing I'd better go and send an owl to Dumbledore." As soon as Gyp heard this he leapt up and started to follow Moody.

"Not _you,_" said Moody, but Lupin said coaxingly, "Oh, do take him, Alastor, he needs all the exercise he can get."

Grumbling, but not wanting to cause a scene, Moody set off with the excited animal yapping at his heels.

"So, Harry," said Lupin, staring keenly at the boy, "do you feel quite ready for this?"

Harry swallowed. "Professor," he asked slowly, "have you ever been to De-allón?"

Lupin sighed. " I have never been myself," he said, "but I've seen those who've been there, and I can't say that I've always approved of the results. I've seen people who'd become far too attached to the place and who were unable to adjust to our world for a few days. Mind, they'd be cured- completely cured, and the after-effects I've just described wear off quite quickly.

"Others come back terrified- they say the magic performed there is dark, as they practice a type of witchcraft called Wicca. That is considered to be black magic in our world, Harry. However even these people would have been cured and they soon forget all about it."

"So… you're saying you don't really want me to go."

"It's not for me to decide. However, if Dumbledore really wants you to go, then I see no reason why you shouldn't. Especially if you do come back feeling much better. After all, that is the whole point, isn't it?" Lupin fidgeted a bit with the Portkey, and then held it up. "_Portus_," he said, and tapped the box with his wand.

Harry gathered his luggage all around him, all ready to leave, still digesting this new information. But before handing him the Portkey, Lupin hesitated.

"Harry," he said tentatively, "may I- may I offer you some advice?"

"Yeah…"

Lupin bent down so his face was in level with Harry's. "Don't get too close to them!" he hissed. "I've seen things happen to people that I don't want happening to you! Don't get too close to them _or_ their magic!"

"Who are 'them'?" Harry wanted to know, but at that moment they both heard the sound of footsteps approaching.

"Goodbye, Harry!" whispered Lupin, and Harry felt the familiar jerk behind his navel as he grabbed the Portkey, and before he knew it he was hurtling forwards- into a land unknown.


	4. Chapter Four

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CHAPTER FOUR

Harry felt as if he was flying through space. His arms and legs were flung about this way and that and more than once he suspected that his shoulder had been dislocated. He also could not see a thing- darkness surrounded him, and all the time he had the sensation of falling… falling… falling…

THUMP. Suddenly Harry found himself lying flat on his face. He heard soft thuds all around him as his luggage fell about him.

He could smell a sweet smell coming from the ground- when he gingerly lifted himself up he saw that soft grass had cushioned his abrupt fall. The smell was coming from thousands of large golden flowers scattered around on it. He breathed in and noticed that the air seemed to be cleaner and fresher than the one he was accustomed to. He straightened up properly and took a good look around him.

He appeared to be in some sort of wood- not densely foliaged, but with a fair amount of trees, all which appeared to bear the same beautiful golden flowers. Right in front of him was the tallest tree he had ever seen- it had a long, silver rope dangling from one of the huge branches.

Harry started to feel a bit panicky. Now where was he supposed to go? He searched frantically with his eyes for any sight of living soul but the place appeared to be completely deserted. He was just about to call out for help when he noticed the rope dangling from the tree begin to sway. Someone was climbing down it.

The someone emerged, hopping down from the rope and landing lightly on the grass. It was a very pretty woman, with long brown hair flowing freely down her back and a very slender figure. She appeared to be looking for something, and when she caught sight of Harry her clear grey eyes lit up.

"There you are! I was worried about you," she said, walking briskly towards him, a welcoming smile forming on her lips, "you're quite late, you know. It's a good thing Lena got up to gather those herbs when she did! Though how that girl does dawdle. Did you have any problems getting here?"

Harry, whose tongue had been temporarily magnetised to the roof of his mouth, manage to utter, "Nuh- no, not really, miss… uh… I mean, ma'am, I- I mean…" He couldn't quite match up the appearance of this woman. Her complexion was as fresh and smooth as that of a twenty year old- so were her figure and her face- but her eyes seemed to have been borrowed from another much, much older person. They were the only things about her that gave her age away.

She laughed softly. "I'm so sorry. I have not yet introduced myself. My name is Naisiltirtha- you'll be staying with me for the next three months. You may call me by my name. You must be Harry, yes?" she asked, holding out her hand.

"Yes," said Harry, shaking it, and managed a small smile.

She nodded, satisfied. "Well, then, let us not waste any time, hmm?" she said, and walked towards the tree again. "Do you know how to climb a rope?"

Harry stared. "Wait- w-hat- do you mean that we'll be living in a tree?" he asked, bewildered

"It's not a problem, is it?" asked Naisiltirtha anxiously. "Because we do have a little cottage somewhere in the heart of the village, built especially for your kind. If you want you can…"

But Harry was already shaking his head- "Nah, I mean, no thank you," he said politely, "I guess a tree'll work for me." He didn't feel like dragging his luggage all the way through a village, which would be probably be full of onlookers.

"Very well," she said smiling, "you may leave your baggage in a heap at the bottom of the tree. I'll send someone to carry them up for you later."

Climbing the rope was surprisingly easier than Harry had expected. It was slender, and looked very slippery, but in reality it was stronger than any rope he'd ever climbed before. Well, not that he climbed ropes very often, but anyway…

When he got to the top he found himself standing on a wooden platform, which led to… a small, stone house. Harry blinked just to make sure he was seeing properly. He was.

The house appeared to be made out of faded, smooth grey rocks, with wooden doors and windows. A stairway outside led to the open roof, where various clothes and materials were flapping lazily in the breeze. Gigantic branches surrounded the house, shading it without engulfing it, and from them golden flowers tumbled down gently, turning the wooden platform into a shimmering carpet.

"This is called a _flet,_ or _talan_ in our language," explained Naisiltirtha, who had come up before him. "Well, actually, the wooden platform is really the flet. But lately we- the Elves I mean- have taken to building houses on them; it's much more comfortable than sleeping on a hard surface in sleeping bags." She smiled at him. "Shall we go inside?"

"All right," said Harry, still staring around him. She opened the door of the house with a key and he followed her in.

It was quite a simple building- but that was what made it so – homely. Naisiltirtha showed him the kitchen- a small table with a few chairs, cupboards, shelves stocked with all kinds of food; and the living area- a small table with a few rocking chairs scattered around and a large woollen rug, and shelves stocked with hundreds of books, and a large fireplace.

Opposite these two rooms, which lay side by side along a narrow corridor, were three closed doors.

"This is where you will be sleeping," said Naisiltirtha, and opened the door opposite the kitchen. She entered and Harry followed in trepidation.

It was, he thought, quite picturesque. The walls were a stony, calm grey colour, adorned with various fragrant flowers that gave off fresh odours that filled the room. The wooden floor made reassuring creaking noises, and in the middle of it was a thin throw rug made out of a material Harry had never seen before, but knew Aunt Petunia would have slit Dudley's throat to get her hands on it. There was a table and chair in the room, as well as a dressing table with a piece of glass roughly hewed into what Harry supposed was a mirror.

He wasn't sure about the bed, though. It was nothing more than a medium sized, thin-looking mattress, stuffed with a bale of hay; which also stuffed the three huge pillows set up upon it. It didn't look very cosy.

"Don't worry," said Naisiltirtha, as though sensing his thoughts, "The bed is more comfortable than it looks. Why don't you have a look at the view?" and she nodded towards the small window right next to the mattress.

Harry was glad he did. It made up for everything. From the window he could see far down into the forest he'd first seen when he had arrived, which was quite amazing, considering that huge branches surrounded the house. It looked like a greeny-golden carpet, as the forest was made up of the same golden flower bearing trees. He could also see small flets high up in some of the trees, though none had such grand houses as the one he was living in now. If he looked carefully enough he could see small silhouettes as the various occupants of the flets moved around.

Beyond the forest was a small clearing; Harry guessed that that was the village, as he could make out tiny dots from which smoke was rising. And even further away, looming over everything and impossible to miss, were huge, ominous mountains, covered in snow. And surrounding the forest, village and mountains, was a great sea; blue as the bright sky above him, and as smooth as glass.

"Are we on an island?" He asked wonderingly.

Naisiltirtha shook her head, "No," she said, "That is what everyone thinks when they come here. The Great Sea can be seen from everywhere in De-allón, though Alerien holds the clearest view, as it always has.' She straightened up from the windowsill, where she had come to join Harry, and was still for a moment. She appeared to be listening to something.

"Ah," she said, "Fridel is here with your baggage." And sure enough, in clumped a tall, lanky blonde elf, who dumped Harry's cases on the floor with an air of relief.

"Íénó tgôën ehércõ säen nsöoğì säen òyuën dcälĺeõ, ɡmén yládë," he said, bowing respectfully in the doorway of the room.

"Thank you, Fridel, but please, use the Common Tongue amongst those who are not accustomed to our speech," said Naisiltirtha, gesturing towards Harry.

The elf started as he caught sight of Harry. "Ah! Excuse me, but I did not see you there!" he said, in a heavily accented voice. He bowed again. "Fridel at your service, sir. Most pleased to meet you." Then, turning to Naisiltirtha, he asked, "He is here in need of healing? At such a young age?"

She shrugged. "I am not one to argue with Albus Dumbledore of the Earthmen. He saw fit to send him here. I warned him, but he insisted. It does not matter. Be sure you look after him, if ever he falls under your care!"

"Of course, my lady," Fridel said reverently, but Harry was sure that there was more than admiration in the elf's eyes." Well, I must leave you now; urgent business at the village. Farewell, Harry, I feel sure that we'll meet again soon. Fare you well, my lady," and with that he made to leave the room.

"Fridel, wait!" called Naisiltirtha suddenly, and the elf halted and turned around. "Did you see Lena on your way here? I sent her gathering herbs quite a while ago and she has not yet arrived."

"Why, yes," replied Fridel, "She was deep in the middle of the forest, gathering as you say, but she was not alone; she was with Lóni, I believe, and they were doing more talking than gathering, in my opinion."

Naisiltirtha sighed in frustration. "That girl! So heedless and impulsive! I have a good mind to keep her under lock and key until she passes her initiation. She can never stick to one task without getting distracted by something. Fridel, if you happen to see her on your way, would you please tell her to return home immediately? It's getting late now, anyway."

"Of course, my lady," Fridel replied again, and left the room.

"Lena is my daughter," explained Naisiltirtha, turning to Harry, "Her room is right next to mine. I would appreciate it if you would not distract her; she has a very important test coming up soon- her initiation- and she needs to get as much work done as she can."

Harry assured her he would not be of any trouble.

Naisiltirtha nodded. "Thank you. Now, would you like to rest a little for the rest of the day? We will not start any rituals or healing processes for at least three days. We still have to see the way in which you react to your surroundings. Are you hungry? I can make you something to eat, if you like."

"No, I'd… just like to get some sleep, please," replied Harry, realising he was quite tired. It was still the afternoon, but such a lot had happened that it felt like a whole day had passed. He felt a yawn coming up and he stifled it with difficulty.

"Of course," said Naisiltirtha, smiling. As she turned to leave Harry finally realised what had been puzzling him for the last few minutes.

"Wait!" he said, and she turned again. Harry went red, "I mean, can I ask you something?" he asked, in what he hoped was a more polite tone. She nodded, slightly amused.

"How- how did Fridel know he had to come to get my luggage? How did you send that message to him?"

"I sent him a witch message," she said, "by telepathy. Don't worry about it- it's quite complex, and it's only something my daughter, a few other elves and I can do. You won't encounter it very often. If it makes you feel uncomfortable-"

"No, no," said Harry, "I was just wondering, that's all." _Weird,_ he thought fervently. _But useful. Imagine if the members of the Order of The Phoenix could do such a thing… or even the DA._

"Well, if that'd be all," she said, "Have a good rest, Harry." And she closed the door softly behind her.

Harry stared around his room one last time, and then looked down at his bags. He felt too tired to do any unpacking, so instead he flopped onto the mattress.

It was, strangely, extremely comfortable. Though it looked nothing like his four-poster in the Gryffindor dormitory, it was the softest he'd ever felt, and when he laid his head down on the pillows, the hay stuffed inside gave off a delicate perfume which slowly, lulled him to sleep…

Before he dozed off, a fleeting thought occurred to him that he had not though about Sirius once that day.


	5. Chapter Five

****

CHAPTER FIVE

"So, I said to Ma, ' "_Please_ let me write a spell to make my hair grow golden,"' but she wouldn't hear of it. ' "You're not that powerful yet, you're more likely to end up growing hay on your head!"' That's all she'd tell me," said Lóni crossly.

Lena and Lóni were walking slowly through the forest, leaves crunching beneath their bare feet. It was a beautiful sunny day, with a gentle breeze sighing through the branches of the trees, and the two youngsters were grateful for it, for it was a tiresome job, gathering herbs during hot weather like this.

"Why did you ask her permission? I'd just have gone and done it," replied Lena. "Ouch- stepped on a thorn." As she bent down to remove it, her friend cast her a look of envy.

"No doubt you would have!" she said. "But I didn't do it really because I knew I wouldn't even have been able to. I thought Ma would be able to help me."

"You should have come to me. I'd have done it for you like _that_," and Lena snapped her left fingers, wincing slightly as she pulled out the thorn from her foot with her right hand. "The spell is the simplest I've ever written."

"But you're so good at writing spells! The connection between you and the Goddess is simply astounding. Why, during the circle last week, I could have sworn you were leading it, and not your mother. You were glowing- literally glowing- a bright silver halo surrounded you, and that normally happens to your mother during circles."

"Yes, I was pretty proud of that myself," Lena admitted, as they continued walking, "and I thought Mother would be too; but all she said to me was to remember to ground myself when it was over. She is so incorrigible! Nothing I ever do impresses her. I know I'm easily as powerful as her, if not more, but she is holding me back. She never lets me explore my potential!"

"Perhaps," said Lóni thoughtfully, "perhaps she is envious of your power, and of your connection with the Goddess. I have heard of it before, from other covens, where the High Priestess hampered their daughters out of pure jealousy, and would not allow them to use their powers and increase them, so that they may remain the leader."

"No-o-o, but I'm quite sure Mother wouldn't do something like that," said Lena slowly. "She is just a little strict, that's all. Just wait till I pass my initiation!" Her eyes glittered, and she swung her basket gently as she walked. "_Then_ we'll see. I'll have so much fun…"

"Will you colour my hair for me then?" interrupted Lóni eagerly.

"You know your mother would never speak to me again. And mine would never forgive me. Anyway, why would you want to change your hair? It's so lovely." Lena reached out and stroked Lóni's long black locks wistfully.

"You're crazy. I think yours is so much nicer," said Lóni, and tugged the long red-golden curls that grew wildly around Lena's face.

"Ugh! It's so horrible, and unmanageable, and it just keeps growing! Why, three weeks ago I cut it to my chin, and it's already down to my waist!"

"I'm glad it grew," said Lóni decidedly, "It suits you all wild and long like that. Don't be silly, Lena, your hair is your 'crowning glory' as Elladan said yesterday." She giggled as Lena groaned.

"Your brother is quite the charmer, isn't he? But, pray tell him that a certain friend of yours does not want his compliments. There are plenty of other elves for him to seek in the village."

"No, there aren't; you know there aren't, Lena," said Lóni. "My brothers, yourself and I are the only youngsters left in Alerien. If you don't marry one of my brothers there will soon be nobody left." She sighed. "I wish you'd give him a chance, Lena. He's really not so bad once you get to know him. And we would be sisters!" Her eyes sparkled. "Imagine what fun it would be…"

"Don't get yourself wrapped up in false dreams. I am _not_ marrying any one of your brothers, and that- is- the- end- of- _that."_ Lena tossed her head in the air.

"Crosspatch!" said Lóni, and pulled Lena's curls again, playfully but a little harder than last time.

"Ow!" shrieked Lena, "I'm going to get you for that," and she reached up and pulled Lóni's small braid tied on top of her long hair.

"Hey!" Giggling, the girls set about chasing each other through the forest, tripping over their long skirts and herbs flying unnoticed from their baskets.

"Lena loves Elladan! And he loves her, and they're going to be together forever and ever and ever," sang Lóni, giggling madly as she ran through the lush green grass.

"Ooh, you, just wait, I'm trying to remember that spell I wrote the other day…"

"What, a love spell?" sniggered Lóni, "yes, a love spell for –OOF!"

"Watch it, ladies!" said Fridel as Lóni bumped straight into him and staggered, falling onto the ground with a thud. Lena was about to trip over her but managed to stop herself in time.

"Oh, _Fridel!"_ she said crossly. "Where did _you_ come from?"

"Well, that's a nice way to greet someone!" said Fridel. "For your information, Miss _Culdol_, I have just come from your mother, who wants you back at your flet immediately. Apparently you were sent gathering herbs, which I see you have been so avidly doing," he added sardonically as he cast a glance at her dishevelled basket.

Lena followed his stare. "Oh, no," she said miserably as she saw the now empty basket. "She is going to kill me."

Lóni scrambled to her feet. "Too right she is!" she squeaked. "What are you going to do, Lena?"

Fridel sighed. "Here," he said, and to their amazement and delight he pulled a huge bag of herbs from his cloak pocket. "Take what you wish from here. I hardly need any of it- it is extra from a circle I had last night."

"Thanks, Fridel," said Lena gratefully, and crouched over her basket as she began to stuff thyme, rosemary and other aromatic plants into her battered little basket.

"All right, Lóni?" asked Fridel, smiling at the other elf, who was already red in the face from running but went even redder now.

"I'm fine, thanks," she said shyly, "You?"

"I'm fine, thanks," he said grinning. "I went to the mountains again last week, did you know that?"

"Ooh, did you?" asked Lóni fascinated. "Were there any dwarves this time?"

"Oh, yes, plenty," Fridel assured her. "And I got something for you as well… look…"

Lóni's eyes widened as he pulled out a long, glittering necklace made out of pure gold that had rubies, sapphires and many other precious stones set in it.

"Oh, by the Goddess!" she exclaimed, clasping her pretty brown hands, "It's beautiful! Oh, Fridel… I couldn't take it… I'm sure I don't deserve it…"

"But you must take it. I had it made especially for you," insisted Fridel. "Here, let me tie it on for you…" And, carefully lifting up the mane of glossy black hair, he draped it around the blushing elf's neck.

"There! It suits you so, you look like a queen in it," he said admiringly.

"Oh, Fridel," said Lóni, "I really don't know how to thank you…"

Fridel's smile grew even wider. "Well," he said, "I would love the pleasure of your company tonight… when I go to the mountains again."

"The mountains!" said Lóni excitedly. "Oh, I've been longing to go!" Suddenly her face fell. "But my mother…"

"I've already mentioned it to her, and she allows you to go, as I am a full grown elf who is perfectly capable of looking after you," he cut in with a grin.

"Oh, what fun!" said Lóni happily. Then she glanced down at Lena, who was still arranging her basket, but smirking at the same time as she listened to the conversation above her. Lóni's face brightened even more as an idea occurred to her.

"Can she come as well?" she pleaded. "Lena, wouldn't you love to come as well? To see the dwarves!"

Lena looked up quickly and saw that Fridel's face had suddenly fallen. "Er… actually I've got a lot of studying to do tonight," she said truthfully, but a little reluctantly, because she would have loved to go and see the mountains with Lóni. But something in Fridel's face held her back.

But Lóni looked disappointed. Suddenly she turned to face Fridel.

"I'm sorry, but I can't go," she said, though regret was evident in her tone of voice, "Lena and I have always promised to be with each other the first time we'd see the mountains. Maybe another time."

"Wait," said Lena quickly, as Fridel looked as if his world was coming to an end, "I _might _be able to make it, if- if we come back before half-night, and leave before sunset. Mother might just allow it."

"If you're not sure-" began Lóni, but Fridel interrupted again.

"Very well! We meet at the Village Centre two hours before nightfall. Bring warm clothes and drinks, and look respectable, for the dwarves do not care for scruffiness! Fare you well, both of you!" And Fridel swiftly passed them by and continued on his way.

"Wasn't that nice of him?" asked Lóni of Lena happily as they set off once more. "We're going to the mountains, to see the dwarves!" She did a little skip of excitement.

"Oh yes- _very_ nice of him," smirked Lena. "Lóni- that elf is sweet on you!"

Lóni coloured but tried to laugh scornfully. "Don't be silly," she said, "He is _twice _my age, and an elder."

"So? Vilya from the village married an elder three times her age and they're both still very happy."

"That's an exception-"

"All that stuff he was saying!" said Lena, ignoring her friend, ' "I would love the pleasure of your company!"' ' "Look respectable, for the dwarves do not care for scruffiness!"' Pah, everyone knows that dwarves are as bad as trolls when it comes to appearance. He obviously just wants to see you looking your best."

"Well," said Lóni slowly, "Even if it _was_ true- and I _did_ care for him as well- I'm not saying that's true!" she said quickly as she saw Lean grinning again, "Ma would never allow it."

"I wouldn't know about that," said Lena mildly, "Fridel is very good-looking for his age, he is quite decent in manner though sometimes too teasing for my liking, and not to mention he is very well off."

"How do you know that?" asked Lóni.

"Well, that necklace isn't exactly cheap, is it?" retorted Lena.

"Oh Lena," said Lóni, "I wish one day _your_ heart would be stolen by some tall, dark, handsome elf, who would sweep you off your feet, and…"

"I'd like to see him try," flashed back Lena.

"Anyway," said Lóni, leaving the subject with an air of relief, "we're here at the flets. It is time to 'tear ourselves away', as little Mim says." Mim was Lóni's youngest brother.

"See you later then," said Lena, and after an affectionate embrace the two friends parted.

Lena hurried along the long and winding path that would take her home. She was quite worried; she knew she should not have dawdled so much, for now her mother would be furious with her. Besides she did have a lot to work on, and she was quite doubtful on whether she would be allowed to go to the mountains that evening. But if she rushed now she might just get there in time.

Panting, she reached the tall tree and skimmed up the rope skilfully.

"There you are!" exclaimed Mother as she charged into the kitchen, clutching her basket tightly. "Goddess, child, what happened to you?"

Lena looked down at herself and groaned inwardly. She was in a mess. Her dress was all torn and dirty, her feet were damp and caked with mud and dust, and her arms and hands were no better. Her hair clung to her face, damp with sweat, and her face was streaked with dirt. Why had Lóni said nothing of this to her?

"Lena, I sent you to gather herbs, not to go and have a mud romp with your friends!" said Mother sharply. "Did you manage to do that, at least?"

"Yes Mother!" said Lena, and thankfully put down her basket onto the kitchen table.

Naisiltirtha began to search the basket thoroughly. Lena seized her chance.

"Mother," she said, "Fridel has offered to take Lóni and me to the mountains this evening. May I go, please?" she asked hopefully, wiping her moist palms on her dress.

Suddenly Naisiltirtha looked up from the basket with an angry expression. Lena's heart sank.

"These are herbs I gathered with Fridel yesterday, when we had a small circle in the village. I suppose you dropped all the ones you found when you went on some mad caper with Lóni, and that Fridel gave you these to save your skin," she said cuttingly.

"But Mother-"

"No 'but's, Lena! Not only did you disobey me, you allowed yourself to get distracted once more, you tried to deceive me, and, what is worst of all, you wasted all those herbs for nothing! You know that in Wicca, what you take from nature must be harboured carefully and used until the very last units run out! You have done wrong in the eyes of the Goddess. You know that, Lena. You know."

"Yes, Mother, I know," she muttered.

"And no, you may not go out to the mountains with your friends tonight. I want you to stay here and _study._ Your initiation is coming up in 9 months, and that is not such a long time, as you well know! Now, go and get washed and come and have something to eat before you go to your room."

Lena left the room, feeling extremely heated but not daring to grumble one bit. After grabbing some clean clothes, she slipped down the rope and crossed over to the brook that ran opposite the lake.

"You see me not," she muttered. "I am but a shadow." Now invisible, she stripped herself of her clothes, put them in a pile with the clean ones and stepped into the cold, clear water. She quickly submerged herself to her neck, just below to where her hair was knotted. She closed her eyes and allowed her thoughts to unravel.

Why was her mother so often angry with her? True, Lena had not displayed model behaviour that afternoon, but she still felt deeply wronged. After all, she had not done such a terrible thing. Except for wasting those herbs. Lena felt a slight twinge of guilt over that. Disobeying your mother was one thing but flaunting the rules of Wicca was another.

She sighed, and opened her eyes. The water had already calmed her mood and cleared her mind. _Thank you, Goddess, for sending me your guidance through your wonderful servant of nature that is water._

Just for fun, she began to cast her senses. It was a way of feeling for other people who were around. Every Wiccan could do it, but, being the daughter of the High Priestess, Lena's senses were naturally sharper and more honed than others of her age.

The first person she felt was her mother. It was so easy to tell it was her- feelings of anger, disappointment, worry, and concern. Lena's insides curled up in remorse, and she immediately resolved to try harder to listen to her mother in the near future. She drew back quickly before her mother felt her spying.

She cast out further, lazily. She could feel different emotions of various elves in the flet village as they prepared for bed; tiredness, thoughtfulness, concentration, sadness, love, reverence…

Suddenly her senses leapt on a new personage- one totally new to her. It was so powerful that she reeled back mentally and had to adjust her wits.

It was a huge jumble of emotions; confusion, sadness, pain, teetering on the edge of misery, curiosity, worry, wonder… where was it coming from?

She cast out even further. It was very close, yet she could not pinpoint its source exactly. She knew she was risking the stability of her mind but she recklessly deepened her concentration. She could not explain why she felt so drawn to it.

She jerked her head upwards towards her flet. There it was! Near Mother's room. Who could it possibly be? They normally kept Earthmen in that room. But it couldn't be, she thought. She had never known an Earthman to have such an impact on her mind.

Bursting with curiosity, she climbed out of the brook, performed a drying spell on herself, dressed quickly and scurried up the rope indoors.

She found her mother sitting at the table in the kitchen writing her Book of Shadows. She looked up when Lena entered and to the latter's relief there was a kinder expression in her eye than before. A plate was set on the table for Lena to eat.

After finishing her meal, which was spent in silence, Lena spoke up.

"Mother," she began, "I was casting my senses while bathing outside, and I felt…"

"I know what you were doing," interrupted Naisiltirtha, "I could feel you."

Lena stared. "But you weren't supposed to!" she cried. "I thought I-"

"Subtlety was never one of your strong points, Lena," said her mother with a very provoking grin. Lena shifted uncomfortably. "But I can say this- your powers are growing every day. The length at which you were casting your senses was truly outstanding for one your age. It was very hard to feel you prying in my mind. I have always expected great things from you, but you astonish me with every passing day. You are remarkably astute and you are very intelligent and hard working, though very fickle-minded and too stubborn and disobedient sometimes, but you possess a great talent and you must learn how to use it well, my daughter. Your connection with the Goddess is one to be envied- it is deep and highly personal and it is a sign that she has chosen you to perform great deeds."

Lena stared, a lump forming in her throat. Her mother almost never praised her so much like this. A few moments ago she had received the scolding of her life. Now she was being praised to the highest heavens. Mother was a strange person, all right.

"How come you never tell me things like this? Why do you hardly ever praise me and show me your appreciation?" she said, swallowing.

"Because," said her mother gently, "it was how your father died."

Lena stared again, so much that this time her eyes began to water. Her father was almost never talked about in that household. He had died very soon after Lena was born and she could not remember him at all.

"Oh yes," said Naisiltirtha, "I always encouraged your father in whatever he did. Even if I sometimes disapproved of some of his ideas. I stoked his ego, you may say. I always exaggerated my admiration- I was too blinded by my feelings for him. Then, one day, I found that I had made a mistake- he had become so proud and arrogant over the years that he decided that he was capable of performing a dark and dangerous piece of magick that was way beyond him. Well, he paid for it in the end. He came out of it so badly he never got to see you before he died.

"When I began bringing you up, I watched your behaviour carefully, I studied every single quirk in your character as if my life depended on it. In the end I came to a final conclusion- although you possess my powers and talent your character is that of your father, in the better days, before his fall. And from that moment on I was deadly afraid of your turning out like him. As you grow some of his faults begin to show up more frequently, but I have never sought to encourage them. I am determined not to make the same mistake again, Lena. That is why I never praise you like I should. So do not think that I never feel proud of you, Lena, because not a day goes by when I am not."

Lena quietly shut the kitchen door behind her. Her mind, so clear from her wash in the brook, was now once clouded again after the talk with her mother. She had never known all that about her father. She had never even cared to know. Her mother was the only family Lena had ever had and as far as she was concerned it was enough. She shook herself mentally, sighing, and pushed all thoughts away for now. It was too late to deal with those things.

She opened the door of her room and was about to enter, but suddenly she made an abrupt turn. She stared curiously at the door next to her mother's. She felt her senses pulling her towards it once again, irrevocably.

What _was_ it about this Earthboy? For it was an Earthboy, her mother had told her. "Don't go pestering him, he is sleeping," were her final, warning, words.

But now Lena was curious, and when she was curious, nothing could stop her. On impulse, she crept over to his room and slyly pushed the door open just a little.

Suddenly a gust of wind blew through the house, and the door flew wide open. Lena shut her eyes and screamed inside her head. After a few short yet infinite seconds she opened them again, and saw that the shape lying on the mattress inside had not shifted. She glanced at the kitchen. Apparently her mother had not heard anything.

Slowly and with the utmost care, she tiptoed into the room and inch by inch, made her way near the mattress. She bent down eagerly to look at the face upturned on the pillows.

As soon as she caught sight of Harry's pallid features, a shock of emotions ran through her. It was something she had never felt before- it was a powerful, deep feeling, a kind of inexorable fascination that gripped her. She felt as if she knew this boy already, as if she'd known him forever. Her breath caught in her throat as a shaft of moonlight suddenly appeared through the open window and enveloped his face.

Those eyes. Those green eyes. They drew her in, and she could not remove gaze from them… Before she knew it, she was reaching out and gently touching Harry's face with her trembling fingertips. A rush of warmth spread through her arm like a thousand tiny bubbles, until the sensation filled her entire body.

She quickly drew her hand away, breaking the connection. She suddenly felt scared. She wanted to leave, but at the same time, she remained rooted to the spot, in accordance to her own wishes.

Finally, she wrenched her eyes off him and quickly and softly as she could, ran out of the room without allowing herself a backwards glance.

She was still a bit shaken by the time she was safe in her bed. What on earth had happened to her back then? She did not altogether like the strange hold that had come over her. It rendered her powerless, something that never usually happened to Lena.

Perhaps it was because she was just tired.

She groaned, burrowing her head into the pillows. I will just have to keep away from him, that's all, she thought as she drifted off. She also thought she was being sincere.


	6. Chapter Six

****

CHAPTER SIX

"Good morning," said Naisiltirtha as Lena entered the kitchen drowsily for breakfast. "Did you sleep well?"

"Kind of," said Lena edgily, remembering the events the night before. She sat down quickly, grabbed a piece of bread from the table and started eating straight away, as an excuse not to speak.

As she chewed her food morosely she noticed that her mother was busy tying on her sandals and brushing her hair.

"Are you going somewhere?"

"Yes. They need me in the village urgently- apparently old Mahtan has had another one of his strokes and needs me immediately."

"That old hypochondriac! Now you will go there and probably found out it is nothing but a violent attack of hiccups," said Lena scornfully. "Why, last time-''

"Do not speak disrespectfully of your elders, Lena," said Naisiltirtha in a warning tone. Lena's mouth slammed shut.

"Now, I don't expect I shall be back before nightfall," continued Naisiltirtha, as Lena went on eating with a sullen expression on her face, "because I also have to visit two homes and lead a circle later on in the Village Centre. I want you to stay here and look after Harry."

"Harry?"

"The Earthboy."

Lena's insides plunged. "Do I have to?"

Naisiltirtha finished tying her sandals and stood up. "Yes, please," she said, getting her summer cloak and her basket down from a shelf.

"Can't I go with you?" asked Lena desperately, "I'm sure we could get someone like Fridel or Maghach to come here instead-''

"Lena! I'd like you to stay here," said her mother, snapping her cloak brooch into place under her chin. "It's a shame I can't be with Harry on his first day here, but duty calls." She hooked the basket around her arm and frowned at her daughter's less than happy expression. "What's the matter? Are you scared of him?" she teased.

"No," said Lena, feeling insulted.

"So? Now, be kind to him, make him feel at home, and give him something to eat when he wakes. You know what to do, Lena, you've done it before, after all."

After she left Lena finished her breakfast quickly, cleared up and swept the room thoroughly before returning to her room, after peeking quickly into Harry's room and finding him still fast asleep.

Feeling very much relieved, she curled up on her bed, opened a book on herbology, and began reading. It was her least favourite subject- she hated all the different names and properties of all the different plants she had to learn- but she knew she it had to be done sometime. Lena, whatever shortcomings she had, was a dutiful student, and used her time well. Besides, she told herself, afterwards she could spend all her afternoon studying spellcraft. Lena loved writing and learning spells and was the best spellcrafter in Alerien after her mother. She had made up her mind a long time ago that she was going to be a spellmistress in the future, though many expected her to become a Healer, like her mother. Naisiltirtha had told Lena that her father used to be spellmaster and suspected that Lena had acquired her love of spells from him.

Lena studied quietly most of the morning. From time to time she would look up from her book and gaze longingly out the window, through which bright sunshine was shining and the sounds of birds chirping could be heard. She was positive that almost every elf in Alerien was out enjoying the weather, and she yearned to do the same. But… she thought sighing, and obediently returned to the magickal properties of basil and its many uses.

In the middle of The Healing Essences Of Feverfew, Lena suddenly looked up and was still; she had sensed someone.

Harry could not remember where he was at first after waking up. Yawning and blinking in the bright sunlight, he sat up straight in his bed. Putting on his glasses, he stood up and stretched, realising that he hadn't slept this well since his last night before his OWLS.

That reminded him… his OWLS! Would his results be arriving at the Dursleys' while he was away? What would they say if they saw an owl pecking at their window with a paper bearing a Hogwarts crest on it in its beak?

He tried not to think about it. It was too early in the morning. Or rather… it was actually quite late, he corrected himself. He groggily left his room to find Naisiltirtha.

However he could not find anyone anywhere- nor in her bedroom, kitchen, or library. He started to feel worried. He hardly knew where he was supposed to be, what he was supposed to be doing, and he knew practically nobody in this strange place. And he was hungry and needed the bathroom… wherever that was, he thought, realising he hadn't seen one since he'd arrived. He ambled around in the kitchen aimlessly.

"Hello?" he called tentatively, "Is anyone there?"

He heard a door opening behind him and spun around to find a small elf come out of her room and cautiously enter the kitchen.

"Do you need anything?" she asked him, looking slightly nervous.

Harry stared a bit. "Uhm… yes," he managed after a bit. "D'you… do you know where Naisiltirtha is?"

"She's not here. She had to go to the village," said the elf. "I'm here to look after you. I'm Lena, by the way," and, vaguely remembering her mother doing something like this, she hesitantly held out her hand.

Something like wildfire happened to both youngsters as they shook hands. Lena felt the same way as last night- the tiny bubbles of warmth shot up her arm again, filling her with that same sensation. However, this time she was deliberately not making eye contact. She did not dare to stare into those eyes again.

They realised that they were still holding hands, and let go quickly.

"Would you like some breakfast?" she questioned him, still keeping her head slightly down.

"Um… yes please," he said.

"All right. Sit down while I prepare it for you," she said, moving towards the shelves and getting down some bread and condiments.

Harry took his place at the table, and stole glances at her while she briskly cut and buttered the bread. He looked away quickly as she pushed his food towards him,

"You may begin eating. I've eaten already. I'll just have something to drink," she said, pouring some strange looking liquid into a cup from a jar.

Harry attacked the bread ravenously. It had been ages since he'd eaten- yesterday morning at the Dursleys', in fact. He chewed and swallowed the bread with great appreciation, while Lena quietly sipped from the cup.

After he'd finished, he suddenly realised that she was looking at him in a strange way. She did not, however, look away this time.

"Er… is there something wrong?" he said.

She nodded towards his glasses. "What are they?" she asked curiously.

Harry raised his hands to his eyes and fingered his spectacles slowly. "What, these?"

She nodded, and quickly began sipping again. "May I see them?"

He took them off and gave them to her. "They're to make me see well," he explained, while she examined them curiously. "Er… my eyesight isn't that good, so… where I come from, they make these to correct the problem."

"So how long do you have to wear them?" She turned them upside down and the right way up again, and slowly, placed them on her face. Harry bit his lip to keep from laughing. They didn't suit her at all.

"Oh… I dunno. Maybe another couple of years," he said, trying not to look at her.

To his great relief, Lena took the glasses off, frowning slightly as she did so. "That's an awfully long time," she said, giving them back to him. "Is there no other way?"

"Er, I don't think so," he said. He crossed his legs tightly. "Er, I don't mean to be rude… but do you have a bathroom or something around here?"

"Oh, you use the brook outside for that sort of thing," she said casually. Harry looked at her and was shocked to see she was being serious.

The water outside was freezing, and it was even worse doing his business in it. Harry quickly finished washing up, and, feeling chilled to the bone, returned to the flet again, only to find Lena getting ready to go out.

"I have to go and get some herbs from outside," she said, by way of explanation, picking up a basket with a short, sharp blade in it. "Mother took all of them with her, and I need some. I can't leave you alone, so… I'd like you to come, please."

Harry looked outside. It was warm, bright and sunny. Sounds of birds chirping and people singing and chanting strange songs could be heard in the distance. Staying inside on a day like this would be just stupid, he decided. Besides, here was a good chance to explore his suddenly new surroundings.

"I'll come," he said. "Except… could you just wait until I get something from my room?"

She nodded, and, as soon as he had safely pocketed his wand in his trousers, they both shimmied sown the rope and went on their way.

"We have to go right in the middle of the forest," explained Lena to Harry, pointing down a long, narrow path surrounded by huge trees. "The best herbs are over there."

"Why do you need herbs?" asked Harry curiously.

She stared at him. "To make magick, of course!" she said. "Don't you use any in your world?"

"Not really- just to make potions and stuff," said Harry doubtfully.

"What do you use for spellwork then?" she asked, hoisting her basket over to her other arm.

"Well," said Harry, pulling out his wand, "we use-''

BAM. As soon as he pointed his wand, a shower of bright, silver sparks erupted from its end, burning his hand as they did so. Harry yelped in pain and threw it on the ground immediately.

"Ouch! What just happened there?" he cried, shaking his hand furiously.

"You mustn't use wands over here!" said Lena, fighting to keep the laughter out of her voice. "There's too much magick around us! Here-'' and she bent down and pulled some leaves from a bright green plant growing below them. "Rub these on your hand in a clockwise motion for three times," she said, and handed them to him. "It will prevent blistering. I'll keep this safe somewhere until you go home," she added, and pocketed his wand carefully.

"But how am I going to practise magic without my wand?" Harry wanted to know, as his flexed his fingers. Thanks to the herbs, the soreness had already subsided.

"You don't. You leave all that to us," she answered him soothingly.

Harry felt uneasy. He never felt completely safe without his wand by his side; his past adventures had made him paranoid about it.

"Don't worry," said Lena, as though she knew what he was thinking, "Nothing will happen to you here. Nothing ever happens here." Harry thought he detected a hint of bitterness in her voice.

They continued walking until they reached an open glade right in the middle. It was full of strange and different plants Harry had never seen before. They gave off weird and wonderful aromas that tickled his nose and made him feel sleepy.

"Careful," warned Lena, "Don't stand too close to the hyssop, or you'll drop down on the floor and won't move again for the next six hours."

Harry gave the plant an alarmed look and stepped away from it immediately. He watched as Lena fetched a simple broom from behind a tall tree. With a stone, she then carefully drew a wide, neat circle in the soil around a polished rock she had obtained from her basket. She then began to sweep inside it with the broom.

"This is my altar," she explained, as she swept, "Wiccans aren't allowed to take what they wish from nature unless they invoke the Goddess first. I have to bless this circle before I can begin." And, setting aside her broom, she began performing her spell.

__

"Wind, sweep this circle for me,

By the powers of the Goddess,

So mote it be."

Then she stretched her slender white arms to the sun.

__

"Fire, light this circle for me,

By the powers of the sun,

So mote it be."

She then dabbled her fingers lightly into a small stream running nearby, and sprinkled it into the circle.

__

"Water, cleanse this circle for me,

By the powers of the Goddess,

So mote it be."

She then reached down and let handfuls of soft earth run through her fingers.

__

"Dirt, enrich this circle for me,

By the powers of the earth,

So mote it be."

The spell was complete. Lena turned around and faced Harry, smiling. She no longer felt in awe of him. She already felt lighter, buoyed down by power flowing through her.

Harry was also seeing her in a different light. She seemed more radiant, and glowing, as though a light switch had been turned on inside her. She didn't seem to belong to this earth at all, but to some other blessed realm far, far away. Yet somehow the spell had affected him too. Gone was the uneasiness and nervousness he first had when he had arrived here. Whatever had been bothering him inside had dissipated, as though turned to dust and carried off by the wind.

"That was pretty impressive," he told her, grinning, "I've never seen anything like that before."

Lena's face, if possible, lit up even more. "Do you really think so?" she asked, "Mother has always called this spell primitive and childish- I wrote it when I was six, you see, and it's the only one I use when blessing my own circles."

"Well… I don't really know much about blessing circles and stuff," admitted Harry, "but that looked pretty good."

Lena frowned as she picked up the short, sharp blade she had brought with her. "That's one thing I don't understand about you Earthmen," she said, stepping out of the circle. "How can you possibly create magick without circles? It would be so…" she groped for the right word. "Soulless. And empty…"

Harry didn't know what to say to this one, so he just kept quiet, and watched Lena as she carefully drew a small circle around a plant with the blade and picked some leaves from it carefully.

"We must never take more than what we need from nature," she explained as she carefully put the leaves away in her basket. "The circle I drew around the plant will protect its energy, keeping it fruitful and healthy for weeks to come."

Harry nodded politely and waited as Lena moved from plant to plant- anise, to treat colic and the pains of pregnant women, clover for luck, money and love, thyme, to treat internal disorders, and so on. She kept doing this swiftly, with a practised air, and very soon the little basket was full to bursting.

Afterwards she suggested they go to the village; she wanted Harry to meet some friends of hers. "Well," she admitted, as they left the clearing, "Lóni- my best friend- and her brothers are the only ones our age here. You see," she said, a little sadness creeping into her tone, "we Elves are a dying race- ever since the Third Age ended, more and more have left De-allón, sailing over the Sea in search of a new life. Men now dominate our world; in much older days it used to be quite the opposite."

"What older days? And where do the Elves go, when they sail across the Sea?" Despite himself, Harry was becoming intrigued.

"It's- it's- oh, it's a long story; a very long one," said Lena, laughing a little, "Now when we get back home I'll give you some books to read, if you like- though they're quite dull, most of it history."

In a matter of minutes they had arrived at the village; Lena, although now chatting quite freely with Harry, was determined not to allow herself to become side-tracked again, and concentrated on following the shortest short-cut possible through the forest.

Harry looked around him with interest. It seemed to be a peaceful, quaint little town- little houses and cottages were built together in small groups, yet somehow all clustered together around a small, grassy path that led to a tall, imposing structure that had many doors and windows. From a bird's eye view it was a riot of colour- unlike the golden forest trees, the plants here bore many different types of rich and vibrant flowers and vegetation. The occupants of the village were milling around and going about his or her own business, sometimes stopping to hail a friend or have a chat.

"Oh, look, there's Lóni," exclaimed Lena, and quickly moved off to greet her friend, leaving Harry to trail along in her wake.

"Is that the one who wanted to grow hay on her head?"

"Ssh, be quiet; it's not exactly like that, you've misunderstood me," said Lena, choking back a giggle.

A tall, tanned elf with long black hair was running down the path towards them.

"Oh, Lena, you'll never guess what-'' she began breathlessly, but stopped short as she caught sight of Harry.

"Harry, this is Lóni, my best friend. She lives in the Flets with us, but her mother works with mine in the village, and so she has a small house here also. Lóni, this is Harry, an Earthboy who will be staying with us until the end of summer." For some reason, Lena felt very cold introducing Harry in this way. She quickly shook off the feeling and watched as both human and elf cordially shook hands.

"So how do you like it here so far, Harry?" asked Lóni with a smile.

"It's… different," said Harry, looking around him again. "But nice," he added, hurriedly though truthfully, "very nice."

Lóni raised her eyebrows. "That isn't something we hear often from the likes of you," she commented. "Most of them are normally too scared to leave their flet, they stay huddling indoors usually.''

"I don't see anything to be very scared of here," said Harry, puzzled.

"That's what I used to keep telling them. Anyway," she said briskly, "do you mind if I talk to Lena quickly? I won't be long, I promise."

Harry shrugged. "I don't mind," though he did a little bit.

"Thanks ever so much. Lena," she said, in a lower, confidential voice, as they walked along the path, Harry following behind, "The Mountains yesterday were amazing. Why couldn't you come?"

Lena sighed and recounted the wrath of her mother. Lóni groaned in sympathy.

"Sometimes, being the daughter of the High Priestess really does seem to much," she agreed, "after you were all excited to go and everything! It's really just too bad."

Lena grinned. "But I bet Fridel didn't mind. Did you both enjoy your romantic evening out?"

Lóni turned pink. "Don't be ridiculous," she said, and, lowering her voice even more, she told her friend about her adventure. Harry, still trailing behind them, caught words like "dwarfs" and "caves" and "gold- _lots _of it!" while continuing to observe his surroundings.

"… and now he's asked me to go again with him this evening, and I think I will," she finished, blushing furiously.

"And so you should! Good for you," said Lena delightedly, feeling happy for her friend. Then, sobering, "Well, what does your mother think of it?"

"Oh, she was ever so reasonable about it- surprisingly. She seemed to be thinking along the same lines as you were yesterday, Lena- good-looking, decent character, well off, and so forth. Didn't seem to mind his age a bit. And you should have seen her face when she saw my necklace!"

They continued talking until Lóni paused and regretfully parted from them, saying that she was needed at home. She waved to Harry and Lena and soon disappeared from view.

"Come to my house later on, both of you, Mother's cooking something nice. We're spending the day in the village," she said before she left.

"I'm sorry I left you alone," said Lena apologetically, as Harry came to walk beside her once more, "It's just that Lóni could talk a hind leg off a donkey when she gets going; it's best to hear her out than shut her out."

" It's all right. Tell me," said Harry; pointing to the tall building that loomed at the end of the path, "what is that?"

"Oh, that's the Village Centre," said Lena, "It's a sort of meeting place for the whole of Alerien. My mother works there sometimes- leads circles, teaches, that sort of thing."

As they walked on they met many acquaintances of Lena's. Just as she had said, most of them were much older: as old as elves could get, anyway. They were all fair to look at; whatever their age it was always their eyes that gave them away. They all followed the same build, Harry noted- all of them were slender, tall, and with long hair, either brown, black, red or blonde. Yet none of them attracted him as Lena had from the moment he met her; and this puzzled him greatly, for there were prettier and more beautiful elves in the village. To him, Lena had something that no other elf had; a kind of strength and luminance shone through her all the time, marking her out from all the others. And all the time there was this nagging feeling inside him, as though he had known or was supposed to have known her all his life.

As the afternoon went on Harry had met mostly everyone living in the small village. They all seemed to be very interested in him, though some looked askance at Lena for being in the company of an Earthboy. Lena rebelliously ignored them.

It was now around six o' clock, and the sun was beginning to dim. Both Harry and Lena were feeling tired out and hungry, being on their feet since that morning, and so Lena suggested that they go along with Lóni's invitation.

"Her mum's a real good cook. I hope you're hungry," she said, smilingly.

Harry nodded, only half-listening. As his weariness grew so did his preoccupations and thoughts, and all his worries about Voldemort and The Order and his life back in his own world came rushing back. The effect of Lena's spell that morning had already worn off and guilt and depression began to sink in once more. He felt really guilty about being here, while those of the Order and probably, now that the truth was out, the whole wizarding world were risking their lives, preparing for war, while all along, he, the real cause of it, was lazing about here…

"We're here," came Lena's voice, interrupting his thoughts. He looked up glumly and in front of him was a small, dilapidated yet charming cottage, with a huge and flowery garden surrounding it. As Lena knocked on the door, shouts and yells and pattering of feet could be heard from inside the house.

"Goddess, did the whole family come up from the flets?" said Lena in amazement. She looked round at Harry and saw his cheerless face.

"Are you all right?" she asked him anxiously.

"Yes, yes I'm all right," he said reassuringly, but not convincingly. Lena began to feel guilty. _I shouldn't have brought him here; he is only an Earthboy. Look how tired he is, and how gloomy. He needs healing._

The door swung open, startling her, and jerking her out of an uncomfortable eye-lock with Harry. A little elf was standing in the doorway.

"_Éllohth!"_ he said cheerfully. "Lóni äidsth ouyén erëwth òmïngcth."

"Éllohth, Mim. Tïen síen dgoöth òten esëeñ öyúen. Tbüen epléästh, ewën êhavth aen tguësth, osen ëben êpolítth dánen ëusen ëthen ncómmöth hspéecth," she said in a commanding tone.

Mim looked round and saw Harry, who was shifting slightly uncomfortably throughout this whole conversation of which he had understood nothing.

"Oh!" said Mim, his big dark eyes widening. Then, slowly and falteringly, he put the question, "Earthboy?"

"Er… yes," said Harry.

Mim ushered them both in with a smile (as well as a 4 year old could usher) and soon they were both seated at a long table with all of Lóni's family- five boys and one girl- Sgáth, Mim, Elladan, Lithe, Ringló and Lóni. Their mother, Nimbrethil, was a cheerful, sonsy person with curly blonde hair and a personality to match her appearance. It was easy to see where Lóni, Mim and Elladan got their dark looks from; their tall, dusky father, Serech, who had an equally darkish complexion; yet Sgáth, Elladan and Lithe had inherited the deep, dreamy look in his eyes, but their mother's fairness was theirs. Though all of them may have looked different in appearance they were undoubtedly a close-knit family; in fact Harry, looking at them all talking and laughing happily together as they ate, was reminded very strongly of the Weasleys.

The meal was very good; the warm soup strengthening after almost a whole day's walking, the roast pork satisfying and fulfilling, and the fruit at the end refreshing and sweet. Harry, despite himself, enjoyed it immensely, and didn't even mind that throughout the whole dinner he was peppered with questions from all the children.

"Hey, mister, where's your wand?"

"Is it true that from your world, you can actually see nine planets?"

"Is it true that in your world, not everyone is allowed to practise magick?"

"Is it true that in your world, they had a war where 52 million people were _actually killed?"_

"Is it true that in your world, you cannot perform magick without a wand?"

"Is it true that in your world, people can fly brooms?"

"Why do you have such a funny scar on your head?"

"Is it true that in your world, people sometimes stick bits of metal _through their skin_?"

"Children, children! Let Harry eat in peace," said Nimbrethil.

"Oh, it doesn't matter, Mrs Gelion," assured Harry, who in fact was actually having fun answering the questions, even the one about the scar. Then he added politely, "The food was really good. Thanks very much again for having me."

"And me," added Lena virtuously, not wanting to be outdone.

"And me," piped up little Mim, and everyone laughed.

After another half hour of talking and good cheer Lena rose up from the table regretfully.

"Well, I'm afraid we must be going. Mother will soon be home and we must get there before dark," she said, wiping her mouth carefully with a cloth as Harry stood up as well. She thanked Nimbrethil once again. "Have fun at the mountains tonight, Lóni. Send Fridel my best," she added with a wicked sparkle in her hazel eyes as her friend went red all over.

"Goodbye, dearest. You're welcome to come again soon- you too, Harry," said Serech.

"Thank you very much, Mr. Gelion," said Harry, smiling, and followed Lena out of the house into the cool, evening air.

"That was nice, wasn't it?" said Lena to Harry, as they walked slowly back to the forest. It was a very nice evening to be out in; the sky was dim but cloudless, with stars sparkling in it like studded sequins, and there was a gentle breeze blowing, making the branches in the trees sway lightly and drop golden flowers onto the soft green grass.

"Yes, it was," agreed Harry. Then, noting the melancholy note in her tone of voice, asked her kindly,

"Are you all right?"

Lena shook herself out of a reverie. "Oh, yes," she said, laughing a little, "It's just that- you know, wouldn't it be nice to sit down every evening to a family like that? It would be so pleasant and sociable to have all those people to talk to. You see, my- my father died before I was born. They say that he dabbled in some dark magick and caused a terrible accident. But I've never believed that… somehow I cannot see my mother ending up with someone like that, no matter how many times she insists on the reason for his death. Anyway," she said, drawing her breath, "that's why it's just me and my mother at home. I'm a kind of a lonely soul there," she said a little sadly. "Do you have any brothers or sisters at home, Harry?"

"Actually, no," said Harry, a little wistfully, "My parents die- were killed," he corrected himself, his throat tightening, "when I was just one year old."

"Oh, how horrible. I'm so sorry," said Lena, feeling extremely remorseful and angry with herself for her insatiable curiosity.

They walked on a bit, in a kind of awkward silence. Then Harry said presently, in a change of tone,

"What do you call this stuff?" he asked, touching a fold of her dress that had blown over her knee.

"False impression," said Lena, glad of the change of subject.

"Very good name for it- it's quite pretty, new thing, is it?"

"It's as old as the hills!- you've seen it on dozens of elves today, and you probably never even found out it was pretty till now," she said, laughing again. She picked up a leaf off the ground, murmured a few words to it, and all of a sudden Harry felt the slight indigestion in his stomach disappear. He looked at her quizzically.

"Where do you learn this sort of thing?"

"What sort of thing?" she replied, letting the leaf fall gently to the floor.

"You know- the- the spells, the herbs… blessings and circles…"

"Oh, Wicca. Well… it's a kind of practice that you pick up as you grow," she said vaguely. "It centres our lives here- we don't really learn it- it's _part_ of us, now you see. You know, to be just able to go along and say spells easily as I did now- well, once you get into it, once you get to know the Goddess- it becomes part of you. Oh, it's hard to explain."

"No, I understand," said Harry, thoughtfully. Then, expressing a wish that had been growing inside him now for some time, he said, slowly, "D'you- do you think you can teach me- it?"

Lena stopped walking for a bit in amazement, than began walking again. Half-dazedly, she asked him,

"Are you serious?"

"Never more so than now."

"Well- I- I- don't know," she said uncomfortably. "I mean- as I said before- you can't really _learn_ Wicca- you have to really really get into it and really _want _to…"

"Oh, I do- I do," burst forth Harry, eagerly.

"But isn't Wicca considered to be- dark- in your world?" she said, giving him a curious look.

Harry appeared to be lost in thought for a few moments there, as they continued walking slowly onwards. Then he suddenly looked up and gave her a long, cool stare.

"I don't really care," he said defiantly.

Lena looked into those green eyes, and found that she couldn't refuse him.

"Well- all right- I suppose," she said hastily, breaking the eye contact to stop the weird feeling going on inside her stomach. "But- I think it's better you don't tell anyone- we'll both get into humongous trouble. I didn't say _yes_," she said, a little defiant herself, for she didn't want to accept defeat that easily, "but it can't really do any harm to look into it." Harry said nothing, but Lena could sense his triumphant feelings, and did not know whether to be annoyed or just ridiculously happy.

"And," said Harry suddenly, "where did you learn that other sort of thing?"

"As 'that other sort of thing' is rather a vague expression, would you kindly explain?" returned Lena, back to her old impish self.

"Well- the general air, the self possession, the style, the- the false impression, you know," laughed Harry, breaking down a bit, and helping himself out of the dilemma with this new phrase.

Lena was gratified but didn't show it, and merely replied, "Well, I'm not fabulously rich, but I study as well as I play, and as for this," with a little gesture towards her dress, "why, the material is picked from the fields, and I am used to making the most of my poor little things."

She rather regretted her last sentence- it was not wholly in good taste, but Harry liked her all the better for it, and admired and respected her brave patience. He had no great liking for rich people- the way he felt about Draco Malfoy was a cast iron case. Poor people had been much nicer to him in the past- this time Ron Weasley was the case in point.

But from that moment on, Harry and Lena were friends. They couldn't explain it, not even to themselves, but some mysterious force seemed to be at work that day… entwining both their spirits in a way that would be more important than anyone could ever imagine.


	7. 7

****

CHAPTER SEVEN

Now let us leave our two young protagonists for the moment and attend to the less significant yet important events on that happy little planet called Earth.

Of course, the eye of the observer, should he wish to plunge right into the heart of what was happening in the wizarding world, should immediately turn to a place in London- Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, to be exact. Here the action had speeded up considerably since last summer- The Order Of The Phoenix had recruited even more members now that the truth was finally out there. These members also happened to include the Weasley twins, who, now having 'finished' school, lost no time in joining the Order, regardless of their mother's anger and dismay.

"Look, Mum," said George finally, after a whole morning's worth of arguments and tears, "It's like this. Ever since Percy left school you've cast it up to Fred and me for not following in his footsteps. Now look where he's ended up- at odds with his own family, even _now._"

This was true. The Weasley family were all still waiting for the much-expected apology from their third eldest son; yet again they were let down. The Ministry, although having grudgingly accepted Voldemort's return, were still on frosty terms with Dumbledore and his followers ("Can't face up to the fact how wrong they were," Tonks would often say disgustedly), and Percy was no exception. Mr. And Mrs. Weasley resigned themselves to waiting patiently for him to finally come to his senses, and threw themselves heart and soul into the Order's work.

"It's like being a Healer," said Fred, when they were sitting down at breakfast one day, after more arguments, "When they see someone hurt or in trouble, they go to work straight away and help them. It's no use standing back and being afraid, waiting for other people to fight for you. You've got to do it yourself, whatever you want done. That's why we've joined; we don't like seeing people hurt any more than you do, Mum, but the more people there are, the more resistance there'll be against You-Know-Who."

"Oh- Fred," cried Mrs. Weasley. The twins hadn't spoken this seriously about anything since planning the great Toilet Seat Theft at Hogwarts in their second year. "Oh- no- no- Fred and George…"

"We must, Mum," said George a trifle impatiently. "We're right- aren't we, Dad?"

Mr. Weasley, who had been sitting down throughout this whole conversation, rose. He was very pale and his voice was husky. But he spoke without hesitation and with a steady manner.

"Yes, twins, yes- if you feel that way, yes-''

Mrs. Weasley covered her face. Ron stared moodily at his plate, and Hermione and Ginny clasped each other's hands.

"Well," said Fred, relieved that that was over, "Me and George've got to go, we don't want to be late for work."

"Lots of Skiving Snackboxes to sell before Hogwarts opens, you see," said his brother, and kissing Mrs. Weasley lightly on the cheek, he and Fred Disapparated with a pop.

Mrs. Weasley heaved a shuddering sigh. "To think- that I had actually wanted them to work at the Ministry! Look at where it would've got them- oh, Arthur- sometimes I really wonder whether I am actually a good mother-''

"Nonsense, Molly," said Mr. Weasley firmly, cutting her off mid- sentence. "You've been the best mother in the world to our children. Don't you dare start putting yourself down."

"Besides," added Ginny, "It takes a special kind of mother to put up with Fred and George for 16 years." Mrs. Weasley smiled wanly.

"Now, why don't put up your feet up a bit and go upstairs to bed while I make you some tea," said Mr. Weasley, "you look as if you need it. And don't worry; the Order will be fine without you for five hours. Go on, dear," and Mrs. Weasley stood not upon the order of her going, being worn out to shreds.

"Poor Mum," said Ron, looking worried, as his father bustled around, getting the tea ready, "she really isn't looking good lately, is she?"

"It's just stuff stressing her out, I guess," said Ginny quietly, "you know, what with Percy acting up and the twins joining the Order, and all this work she's got to do now…"

"And also," added Hermione just as softly, as Mr. Weasley climbed upstairs, "I think she's starting to feel kind of lonely."

"How can she be lonely?" asked Ron incredulously, "she's got me, Ginny, and the twins!"

"No- no, you're not understanding me," said Hermione, shaking her head as Ginny and Ron stared at her in confusion, "what I meant was, you know- she's got nobody to, well- _mother_- any more. If you really think about it, all her children are now practically adults. Ron, you're sixteen, you'll be soon starting your NEWTS now- whether you like it or not," she added as Ron's face sagged in dismay, "and you'll be taking your Apparation test soon, giving you even more independence; and Ginny you'll have exams soon- your OWLS, so this year will really mark the end of your childhood. And the twins now have their own jobs, and I shan't be surprised if they soon settle down and start families of their own, as hard as it is to imagine. Bill and Charlie haven't needed their mother that much in ages, and Percy- well, we all know about Percy," she finished awkwardly.

"But we still help her!" said Ron fiercely, "We're always around-''

"But you don't really _need_ her," said Hermione, "think about it, she hasn't got any six year olds any more- nobody to read bedtime stories to, nobody to cook special smiley face cookies for- yes, she told me about that," said Hermione, smiling slightly as Ron's face coloured in embarrassment, "she's got nobody that's totally dependent on her any more. And I think that's what she really needs at the moment, to feel, well- _needed._ And- now Harry's gone away for the summer… we all know how much she dotes on him…"

After a short, very silent moment, the doorbell rang, making them all jump up in their seats. Immediately the portrait of Mrs. Black began screeching.

"FILTHY HALF-BREEDS, POLLUTING THE VERY AIR OF MY OWN MOST NOBLE AND PURE HOUSEHOLD-''

"I'll get it!" said Arthur Weasley, rushing down the stairs in a hurry, "you kids better stay here and wash up the dishes."

He tore out to the main hall, threw a bunch of filthy curtains over the painting- "THE SHAME OF IT, OH, THE SHAME OF IT"- and flung open the front door, to find Minerva McGonagall and Albus Dumbledore waiting expectantly on the doorstep.

"Good morning, Arthur," they said.

"Oh, good morning, good morning!" said Mr. Weasley, and ushered them in, shutting the door behind them.

"Quiet day at the Ministry, Arthur?" asked McGonagall, taking off her cloak and hanging it up.

"Er- yes, in fact," he replied. "Just one case came in today- quite serious, in fact, heard about it from Perkins- some witch, I think, was apparently giving out Potions to Muggles- I don't think it was in Britain, though-''

"No, I expect it wasn't," she said. "Is the witch's name, by any chance, Caitlin Moore?"

"Yes," said Mr. Weasley, looking surprised, "it is, in fact. How do you know?"

"Because that's what we're here to see you about," said Dumbledore, speaking for the first time as they entered the kitchen. "Er- in private," he added pointedly, glancing at Ginny, Hermione and Ron.

"Oh- of course," said Ginny meekly. They didn't dare object to Dumbledore's wishes. "Er- Ron, want to come and help me with that Sloth-Roll grip you were showing me last time? We can use your broom if you like."

"Oh- sure," he said. "Coming, Hermione?"

"No thanks," said Hermione rather loftily, "I'm going upstairs to study for my NEWTS. And I really think you should do the same-''

"Well, Ginny," Ron began saying loudly, "Although the Sloth-Roll grip is an especially hard technique to master, the Cleansweep is in fact especially designed for-''

Hermione rolled her eyes as both of them left the room, Ron digging Ginny in the back to hurry her out. Before she went upstairs she turned to Dumbledore to ask, "Um, excuse me, Professor, you wouldn't by any chance happen to have heard anything from Harry, would you?"

"No, not yet," he replied, smiling, "but don't worry yourself, Hermione; I assure you that he is in very good hands." Hermione nodded gratefully and departed.

"Well, what can I get you?" said Mr. Weasley briskly, once the three adults were on their own, "Tea, Minerva? Albus?"

"Nothing yet, Arthur, thank you," said Dumbledore. "I wonder- would you care to sit down for a minute? There is something we would like to discuss with you."

"About Caitlin Moore?" Mr. Weasley inquired, as he took a seat opposite them.

"Yes. There is just one thing I would like to know- what exactly are the crimes she has committed?"

"Well," said Mr Weasley, "this morning we received information that Ms. Moore had given a Strengthening Solution to a Muggle, without performing a Memory charm afterwards. Ministry officials were sent there immediately, but Ms Moore had disappeared from the scene as soon as they got there. She was issued a warning, of course, but then a few hours later she was caught doing the same crime again. Now there are talks of having her wand snapped." He shrugged. "That's all I know."

"You have no knowledge of what her exact sentence will be?"

"No. I'm not even on the case- Perkins just happened to hear about it and passed on the info to me. I don't normally deal with situations like this; I just do bewitched Muggle artefacts and stuff like that."

"I see," said Dumbledore, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "Tell me- is there any chance of you passing on the word that Albus Dumbledore has wished that Moore be let off, just this once?"

Mr. Weasley stared. "But- what good would that do?" he asked. "Moore has committed a serious crime! She deserves punishment!"

"Not if you knew her like we once did, Arthur," said McGonagall.

"You knew her?"

"Of course," she replied. "Moore was once a student at Hogwarts- for the last two years only, though."

"She came in her sixth year- she had attended Beauxbatons Academy for the first five years," Dumbledore. "She's half French, you know- her mother was born in Paris, where Moore's family used to live before coming to Britain."

"That's all very well," said Mr. Weasley weakly, "But I don't see how that's a good excuse for what she did. And anyway, what good's your word going to do in the Ministry, Albus?"

"Oh, I think they'll listen to me this time," said Dumbledore airily. "If the word lets out that Cornelius Fudge has defied the word of Albus Dumbledore again- well, you saw what happened the last time he did that."

"Well, I'll do what I can," he said doubtfully. "But why do you want her freed, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Because I want her to teach at Hogwarts," said Dumbledore.

"Is she a teacher?"

"No, but I'm sure she'll make a fine one," he replied happily, and Mr. Weasley saw a look of deep scepticism pass across McGonagall's face as she heard these words.

"Do you know anything about her, at least?" he asked. "It may be of help to her. She's quite a mystery at the Ministry."

"Well, we may as well begin at the beginning and tell you everything straight through, so you'll understand it. Caitlin Moore was born to Claire Dupont and Tony Moore… isn't that so, Albus?" she glanced round at Dumbledore, who nodded. She continued: "He was very clever- but very lazy, and was one of your wicked, fascinating men, except that he left off being fascinating and kept on being wicked after he was married. And as for her mother- well, I never had much use for _her._ I met her once during Caitlin's first week at Hogwarts, but that was one time too many for me. She was spoiled, to begin with, and was nothing but a shiftless, whining, selfish woman. Tony, as I said before was extremely lazy old sot; idled his time away at work, and Claire was too delicate to get a career, or so she said. So they were as poor as church mice and literally lived on turkey sandwiches and potatoes. It's a good thing they were both wizards, because I'm sure they wouldn't have survived without magic.

"Well, soon Caitlin's letter arrived and she was sent off to Beauxbatons. She was a bright student and a very likeable young woman, though she had more than a streak of her father's rebellious nature in her, and that got her into trouble a few times. But she never really crossed the line and was, at the time, too ambitious to let bad behaviour ruin her studies.

"Anyway, Caitlin got on with her life, but her parents didn't. Their marriage began to fall apart soon after she turned fourteen; Tony began to stay out late each night and came home almost always drunk as a sailor. He wasn't a strong man at all- morally, physically or spiritually. He moped around and became melancholy, and soon lost his job. And then, one day, when nobody was around in the house, he hanged himself- right in the middle of the kitchen. That day happened to be Caitlin's sixteenth birthday- 25th August- nice, tasty time to pick for it, wasn't it? She was out at a friend's house at the time, I believe, and came back home singing, with flowers in her hair. The first thing she saw when she went into the kitchen was her father's body hanging from the ceiling, his face as black as coal. It must have been so awful."

"Oh, how horrible!" said Mr. Weasley shuddering, imagining one of his children in Caitlin's place. "The poor, poor child!"

"Caitlin didn't cry at her father's funeral any more than her mother did. Everyone was disgusted at Claire but Caitlin always stood up for her. She is very clannish and loved her mother, if nobody else did. Anyway, they both had far more pressing problems. Claire soon found out that she couldn't pay the mortgage on their home, so on the spur of the moment she decided to move all the way to England, her husband's old home, to get a job there and start a whole new life. So she scraped up all the remaining money she had and used it to get here by Muggle transport."

"I remember her letter arriving on my desk, asking if Caitlin would be allowed to join Hogwarts," said Dumbledore, as McGonagall paused for breath. "She'd sent all of her daughter's certificates, and a photo. I remember being quite impressed by her grades, so I decided to make an allowance, especially since Claire had written of their situation. She had managed to get a job, at least- at Madame Malkin's in Diagon Alley- so getting all the books and robes needed were less of a problem.

"Well, Caitlin came to Hogwarts that year. She was placed in Ravenclaw, where she quickly made friends with quite a number of people. All the students there were quite taken with her- she was very radical and very different. Being a bit of a hippy, she brought quite a- ahem- revolution to Hogwarts."

"All the bad behaviour that she had so carefully avoided in France came out in full force at Hogwarts," said McGonagall, a little disapprovingly. "Never had I seen so many students smoking or listening to rock music, or buying illegal substances from Merlin knows where and- and getting- how do you say-''

"I believe the correct term nowadays is 'getting stoned'," said Mr. Weasley, keeping his face carefully blank.

"Yes, well," said McGonagall hurriedly, "Caitlin brought all those things to Hogwarts, and more. She was angry at her mother for moving them all the way out to England, when she was already comfortable in France, despite her father's recent suicide, so she took it all out on Hogwarts. She became quite a figure amongst the students of the school; they all looked up to her because she was so striking. She had brains but she didn't use them for normalities like homework or exams. And she was so eye-catching as well. Albus, do you know, I still maintain to this very day that she was the prettiest thing I had ever and will ever see."

"Caitlin had her mother's looks but her father's brains," agreed Dumbledore. "But she had ten times the spirit and go that Claire had, and a far better figure. And she had something that none of her parents had- a voice."

"She was a wonderful singer," explained McGonagall, seeing the puzzled look on Mr. Weasley's face. "She'd made up her mind already before she came to school that she was going to be a famous songstress. I still remember all those times she used to come down to The Three Broomsticks and sang songs for all her friends. And Madam Rosmerta never seemed to mind- in fact it was good business for her, because in the end everyone used to come down to the pub just to watch her sing."

"How did she end up when school finished?" asked Mr. Weasley with interest. "From the way you've been talking about her I can't see her in a steady job at somewhere like the Ministry."

"I'm getting to that," said McGonagall. "Well, as I was saying, Caitlin was quite popular. Not popular in the sense that everyone _liked_ her, but popular enough to be talked about and discussed in everyday conversations- she was a kind of celebrity. And of course, with this kind of power she had had her fair share of boys' fancying her. But she would ignore or snub them all- except for Sirius Black, that is."

Mr. Weasley stared. "Sirius?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore, smiling a bit sadly. "Sirius had been taken with her from the very moment she walked past his table to be Sorted, I believe. He spent the whole of his sixth year trying to get her to notice that he existed."

"As if that was needed!" broke in McGonagall, who by now was beginning to enjoy herself quite a bit. "Caitlin knew very well who Sirius was by the end of her first week at Hogwarts, but she was too proud to show that she was besotted with him. I used to be quite angry with her at first; she kept ignoring him and giving him the cold shoulder endlessly. But he never gave up- he really was in love with her, I do believe- and by the beginning of their seventh year she admitted that she was interested and they began going out almost immediately after that.

"It was easy to see where the attraction began. It was like fire to gunpowder. Both of them were extremely good-looking, popular, clever- but very wild and reckless and too fond of freedom. Their relationship didn't run very smoothly- unlike that of Lily and James- they were forever having fights or disagreements and sometimes one of them would go off with someone else, just to spite the other- but in the end they would always reunite, and each reunion would be even more passionate than the last. There were problems- Sirius had a hard time settling down because of his unruly nature, and Caitlin was never very popular with his friends. James in particular didn't like her- he thought her too 'vain and gigglesome'. But I think mainly he was jealous of her because of all the attention lavished upon her by Sirius.

"Well, after school finished, they had both decided to settle down and get a place together. Sirius, as you know very well, was never very fond of his home, and Caitlin- well, her mother was murdered by Death Eaters at the end of her seventh year at Hogwarts."

"Not her as well!" exclaimed Mr. Weasley.

"It was a particularly horrible murder. No magic was used- they slit her throat with a knife just as she was coming out of the shower," carried on Dumbledore conversationally. Mr. Weasley shuddered.

"Well, Caitlin was very upset by that, of course. She had no family left and she had loved her mother very much. So Sirius persuaded her to get a job together with him, and soon they had saved enough to get a small apartment and start saving to go to America."

"America!"

"Yes- to get Caitlin's singing career going. They both left Hogwarts with a fair amount of NEWTS, but they weren't interested in furthering their futures academically. No, they had both written quite a few songs together, and were about to leave for America, when the war really began to break out.

"Well, that's when Sirius changed his mind. He joined the Order immediately, together with Remus, James, and Wormtail- though Peter needed much persuading. However, Caitlin was furious. She hated war and wanted no part in it, didn't want Sirius to, either. She stayed well out of the Order's business and sulked at home because her career was ruined, and Sirius, to spite her, stayed out with the Order till very late hours while she worried at home. Nonetheless, after a few weeks, Sirius cracked- he couldn't stand life without her, he said. So he went out in the midst of war to a jewellery shop, bought the most expensive ring he could find, and asked her to marry him. She accepted him straight away, of course, for she had missed him as much as he had missed her, and all had seemed well, until disaster struck.

"The news that Sirius had murdered Wormtail and all those Muggles spread very fast- too fast. Caitlin heard about it from Dedalus Diggle when he came running to her house to tell her. She was angry and devastated. Like all of us at the time, she didn't doubt for a second that Sirius was guilty. And she had had enough tragedies to last her a lifetime, so it really was the straw that broke her back. She packed her bags, left a note to Sirius on the table that she was gone, and ran off to southern France, where she lives still. I believe that she has had a child out of wedlock- not Sirius' though. And- yes, I think that is, in fact, the end of her story."

Mr. Weasley said, "But how come Sirius never mentioned her at all to us?"

"He never spoke of her again after he learned that she left him," said McGonagall, "I think his heart was broken. And it could also be that Azkaban drove the memory of her clean out of his mind. Who knows? He might have mentioned her a few times to Remus, maybe. But not to us."

Mr. Weasley sighed. "It is quite a story. I just hope it's enough to convince the Ministry. Plus we'll need people to confront her- in any case I'll try to go myself, if-''

"We're coming with you," said Dumbledore, in a tone that nobody ever dared to argue with. "And we'll take Kingsley as well."

"Is that really necessary?" said Mr. Weasley, looking alarmed.

"Constant vigilance, as I have learned from Alastor," said Dumbledore. "We're likely to meet some shady characters on the way there, now that Voldemort-'' Mr. Weasley winced- "has followers all over the world."

"Well, do you know her exact location?" Mr. Weasley asked, getting out a piece of paper and a pencil.

"A small town in north-western France- Biarritz, I believe it's called. We'll take a Portkey there tomorrow."

"So soon?"

"Yes. If I know Caitlin, she'll need some convincing to come back to Hogwarts."

"You seem to remember her quite well," commented Mr. Weasley, scribbling away.

"Caitlin was one of the few students who bothered to keep in contact with us after she finished school," said McGonagall. "Because of her exceptional past, she's been hard for us to forget. We were forever helping her and Sirius out, and we couldn't help liking her. Oh, yes, Caitlin is a very charming person when she wants to be. Be on your guard tomorrow, Arthur."

After Dumbledore and McGonagall left, upstairs Ron and Ginny pulled out their Extendable Ears, both looking dazed.

"Well!" said Ginny.

"I never knew Sirius had a fiancé," said Ron, sounding amazed. They were both crouched down on the floor near the railings.

"None of us did," said Ginny. "Oh, imagine if Harry knew!"

Ron insides twisted at the thought of his best friend, whom he was missing much more than he cared to admit.

"_What_ are you doing?" hissed a voice above them, and they both looked up to see Hermione's face glaring at them.

"Oh, just wait till you hear this, Hermione," said Ginny, and they pulled her down next to them, amid her avid protests, and began telling her all that they had heard.


End file.
